Vindico

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Beauturn Eslelise-Freewinter Offline

Loner of Vindico
18 Seasons / Male / Factionless
Played by Astrara
205 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x0 x0
*
Beauturn's Health
 
 
Strength
0
Defence
5
Agility
10
Intuition
5
#1

Beauturn Eslelise Freewinter
I'd like my obituary to hint at a sequal
The enslaver of the sky king, the purloiner of ashes

Beauturn. His every wingbeat like the organic thrum of an organ as he would rise like seraphim to the peaks, determination set there within cardinal gaze. The ancient tongue of the gods ablaze upon the sharp features of his face. Beauturn; this sovereign eagle king would return upon dogged plains like the sun upon the morning due and there upon the early hours of the morning, the black of his powerful frame pitted against the large gulf of the sun. Light became him. He’d use his magic if only a little; it wasn’t much, no howling gale nor coming storm but merely the minor rotation of an updraft so that it could lift him sky bound in his scaling of the mountains. As above, so below; the beast. Winged, shadow a predator against the rocks below. Its blizzard pelt and razored gaze mocked his own in a wicked game of mimic. The mythical roc; the king of the mountains. Libra.

He had named it after a spectre. The one that rose from the waters and promised his reign would be one of supremacy. ‘Oh libra you liar, the gods of that starlit world did smite me for you.’ There was a crook upon his words, a hatred deep within his throat that burned and burned. ‘I created a god but I killed him with negligence.’ He had birthed a culture, a legend. Yet so easily did his happiness be pilfered by selfish hands and he wander far and far to the cruel eyes of an eagle-king of whom he captured; controlled.

Or was it the other way?

Beauturn would look down to his companion- ancient runes ablaze. “Are you faring well old friend” He would call down, a smirk tugging at dark lips, his fur a strew by the coldening of the air; it lay frigid, intensifying until it burnt to breathe “Beauturn you fool of a man! Your old gods betrayed you! Your old gods are dead!” Libra would call out to his kin, his voice strained as the weather would seem to close over them like an enigma of natural chaos. The snow heavy, wild. His vast wings growing hard, ice crystals forming upon their large white backs, primaries untillable, he was losing air.
The snow was so thick he no longer felt the presence of the dark man, no longer saw him. He was blinded by the expanse but a voice was heard strong through the vicinity, as strong and as hard as any storm “Oh but Libra don’t you see; of old or new we find our path among them; I shall raise them once more and we shall speak not of eagles and stars, but of  rebirth.” There was a steadiness in his voice, a paced rhythm like the organic heart beat of his wings upon the steady thrum of the expanse. Wayward and wayward; against the ice. Against the elements. Beauturn believed if he wasn’t against one thing it was another. Nature was a bitch but then there was he. Determination and courage and pure stubbornness was all he needed, all he yearned.

He would let himself drop, wings folded to his frame as he would fall from the skies as he did upon his initiations with the eagle-god Altair. Accuracy within his fluent motions, this dogged fool lost amidst the endless motion of white as it devoured him, lashing hard against his face like gravel. It was bruising and invigorating and the true meaning of his desires at life. His words- slurred from the cold would be cast once more to his dear Libra “I awakened an eagle god once before dear Libra- you are named to him. I have this power.” His coherency began to lose form, of how much was this just the delusions of a consumed king. Where was the truth within him? Libra grew fearful, he drew his vast bulk back, away, anywhere but there. “Your delusional! Through the woes of this weather I pertain no further to your madness!” His voice desperate, pleading; they were bound by the relationship of a familiar yet this went beyond the Roc’s duty of protection. But Beauturn was stubborn, He would unfurl black wings upon the final moment, giving him a rough twist to his feet upon the mountain flesh “Ah but I feel something fierce still left in me.” His runes glowed bright upon the words ‘fierce’ a low laugh emanating from strained vocals as his companion would abandon him “Hark! Hark! He’s gone mad! The eagle-king is elsewhere!” His voice billowed across the mountain side. Eslewhere, that was it, beau thought. He was elsewhere.

Eyes half closed, wings frozen, stiff as they dragged numbly upon the snow he would prevail onwards. Onwards…his thoughts drifting, partly in sleep, partly in the moment. This numbness spreading, his bodice still inching closer and closer to the destination, the goal; this mouthpiece of the gods.

All of a sudden as soon as it began, it ended and he found himself as if he was within somewhere else. As if he had been displaced; moved. Beauturn would collapse upon the glade. He would notice rock with olden tongues within them and muse. Pulling himself across earth like a broken-down actress he would raise hoarse vocals skyward “Oh nix, dearest  Costentina, I invoke you.”

He had questions, so many questions. His relationship with the ice and the cold one of nightmare, a nightmare he lived through. His father drowned, his brother drowned and he nearly one to the tally of dead freewinters. Why did he live, why was the ice thin enough for him to break through and live and take care of his mother and siblings unto their demise? The ice, the cold; it marked the day he became lost upon his morals. His prevalence had to be something; this stubborn, dogged, bastard of a man. He was chosen, this had to be. He would do the impossible, he would wake the gods themselves.

“Come unto me oh diviner of the ice; oh forger of my home”






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The Gods  Offline

of ooc
Seasons / male / Avelorn
Played by
40 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x x
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#2
1d6 rolled for a total of: 2 (2)

1d4 rolled for a total of: 2 (2)

first dice, even numbers are successful and odd are unsuccessful.

if successful second dice will determine the god you summon.
1. Phu'arne
2. Sylva
3. Nix
4. Nix

YOUR SUMMONING OF THE GODDESS SYLVA WAS SUCCESSFUL!
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Sylva  Offline

God of Vindico
Seasons / Female / Feral
Played by Staff
9,159 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x∞ x∞
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#3
From the ground she was born.

His calls would not go unnoticed even if that which he sought would ignore him. Or maybe it was simply that a much darker creature would pull itself forth before that which he called could arrive. They never appeared together, never in their history. It was simply a test of who got there first and who felt like going. Today the one that felt like making an appearance was the lady of the land. A rumble would begin, quaking the earth for a moment before the woman would pull herself from the earth. Body would stretch, head pushing forward from the split earth, seeming to gather stone around her as she stepped forth. Lithe deity would come to stand before the man, paying no mind to his companion as eyes locked on him.

Rumbling would stop, earth seeming to seal back up. The desolate rocky mountain top would come alive with life, grass and flowers beginning to grow around them. From the earth vines would begin to reach, crawling up her limbs and twining into massive tail as if attempting to once more pull her into their fold. From her shoulders sprouted a weeping willow from each shoulder, twisting and stretching skywards, wreathed with fresh leaves and flowers. For a moment there was silence as she studied the one who had so daringly called her sister before lips would twist into a smile.

“Why call to the goddess of ice when you could have me instead?”

Words were a sweet coo, deceptive in tone as the goddess took a step forward, vine snapping and breaking from her limbs as she moved. Though each time she placed her paw back to the earth new vines would sprout and attempt to climb her limbs. Woman would come to stand a short distance before him, eyes fixated on him. Curious creature, she had always loved the winged ones…

@Beauturn
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Beauturn Eslelise-Freewinter Offline

Loner of Vindico
18 Seasons / Male / Factionless
Played by Astrara
205 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x0 x0
*
Beauturn's Health
 
 
Strength
0
Defence
5
Agility
10
Intuition
5
#4

Beauturn Eslelise Freewinter
I'd like my obituary to hint at a sequal
The enslaver of the sky king, the purloiner of ashes



She came from the earth, an entrance. Overtly long winded, Beauturn would think to himself. Nyx would have spent less time he was sure. But this was Sylva. Lovely. His efforts felt wasted and so he would look dejected. Thoroughly so. Mars hued eyes cast upon the vines in their attempted ascension. His runes flaring upon the presence of her being. Something magical, powerful. He would play the swan and presume dramatically. Neck pulled back far so that his delicate visage could look elsewhere as he would prop himself up with slender forlimbs, descending back as if to recoil. He was graceful of course, the intricacies of elder tongue upon his fur beautiful, articulate. Glaring angry; red. He’d stare off to the passing storm with a scowl.

“Why call to the goddess of ice when you could have me instead?”
He would let out a huff upon her words. Dismissing her with a wing before smooth vocals would cast like the accidental hollowing of the wind. “personal preference.” His words where simple. He’d wrap the sprawling tail of vantablack around his paws before spreading his wings, unfurling them to mock the skies. “Are you here to prevail this irony; my sick luck.” He would add in a volatile manner “or uplift it.” He would seem sceptical, distrust oozed from his tone like molten ichor as he would resume his stance of agitation.

Somewhere else the wind was howling, somewhere beyond the glade. “I in my youth birthed a god from the oceans. Wings cosmic, interstellar voyager; Altair. This was in another place.” He’d get to his feet, uncomfortable. His fur raised slightly upon his shoulders as he would pace a little to the left in a diagonal cut furthering himself from the woman. “In my negligence, I killed a god. Wings cosmic, interstellar voyager; Altair...thus ended an era.” Words would spill from black lips like a confession. His expression lost within other griefs. His wives, his unbirthed children oh god. Gone. Removed. Displaced. He’d let out a huff but this time it was not in irritation but mourning. “I lost my wives, my children, collectively everything. I rid the world of another divine. But I can make up for my mistakes.” He’d turn sideways, the sharpened corners of ruby eyes locked upon the god. Something wild within them. Burning against the eden. A fire to nature.

Somewhere else the wind was howling and he; Beauturn was elsewhere.


@Sylva
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Sylva  Offline

God of Vindico
Seasons / Female / Feral
Played by Staff
9,159 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x∞ x∞
Sylva's Health
 
 
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#5
Sardonic smile would split lips wide, flashing teeth in a very obvious show of annoyance as his 'preference'. And yet the goddess would not interrupt the man's ramblings. Birth and murder, while he spoke of things she did so love she held not a care for this man's ramblings. Smile would turn to sneer as he spoke of making up for his mistakes. These were mistakes?

"You are becoming quite the bore. Tell me, why do you come here and call to the gods?"

Blunt, she was beyond caring what he wanted and the temptation to rip even more from him coursed heavily through her veins. She knew of other lands, wolves had come and spoken of their gods to her before but she could care less about them. Maybe that was why he had called her sister, maybe he was looking for a little compassion...

@Beauturn
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Beauturn Eslelise-Freewinter Offline

Loner of Vindico
18 Seasons / Male / Factionless
Played by Astrara
205 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x0 x0
*
Beauturn's Health
 
 
Strength
0
Defence
5
Agility
10
Intuition
5
#6

Beauturn Eslelise Freewinter
I'd like my obituary to hint at a sequal
The enslaver of the sky king, the purloiner of ashes


Of course. How corporate. It was almost cute, the eagle-king was unimpressed with this lack of formality. He pictured communing with divine so much more exhilarating. Altar was a light show, a madrigal. A picture played on stellar wings and quests of the heart of when from where he rend himself from land and became air in his element, in his being. It was then when Beauturn became legendary. But here. Here was different, worse in more than just the ached loss of his beloved. “I already did.” His words where simple, as sharp as glass. His expression blank as he’d raise swan neck to stare her flatly in the eye. Red. Sharp cheekbones and ember illuminated by unknown tongues, with a distance that settled flatly upon his face like a milestone. Oppugant life.

He feared her not. He feared no man, no woman, no god. He’d lost his wives his children. There was nothing there within him that bound him to mortal regards and as such he had become reckless. He snicker on tight breath as he’d muse so sweetly “you are no different than any ‘mortal’; full of unearned pride and a head full of air." With that ichored words would continue to flow “so I shalt speak to you like mortals do. Spell it out for you.” A twitch on blackened lips would hitch, showing the painted ivory of his front fangs so slightly before obscuring them.

What had happened to such a world where divine where so indifferent. Lands where losing, life was scares and in this lack off the eagle king – a foreigner in more ways than one demanded to do what the natives dare speak off.
“Better me and I will raise this sleeping world.” He would then add; his voice the accidental hallowing of the wind.


“Make me for worse and I find the thing that makes you run and cut it.”




@Sylva
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Sylva  Offline

God of Vindico
Seasons / Female / Feral
Played by Staff
9,159 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x∞ x∞
Sylva's Health
 
 
Strength
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#7
Callous words would flow from insolent lips and laugher would trill to join them. He thought he had it all planned didn't he? Again, she wouldn't interrupt, she would simply laugh. When he was done a grin would remain as she moved forward. With each step the woman would grow, coming to look over him so he was no larger then hear head.

"A gift I will give but nothing comes without a price."

A purr, a promise would be given as the woman reached down. Jaws would part and then snap, severing his left wing from his shoulder. A price... Paw would arch, drawing a circle around the male. Fire would spew forth and engulf him though it would not harm, simply infusing into his blood.

"Should you die it will no longer be the end... Let the fire in your veins guide you. Best of luck in your next fights..."

Sneer would touch her lips before the woman would become stone, facade would crack a crumble before falling away completely to leave the man alone on the mountain top. Greenery that has begun to bloom and grow with her presence would almost immediately wilt and die with her departure.

Outcome:
Maim
Strength
Phoenix
Fire Element

@Beauturn
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Beauturn Eslelise-Freewinter Offline

Loner of Vindico
18 Seasons / Male / Factionless
Played by Astrara
205 Runes 
Domum - Ferox
x0 x0
*
Beauturn's Health
 
 
Strength
0
Defence
5
Agility
10
Intuition
5
#8

Beauturn Eslelise Freewinter
I'd like my obituary to hint at a sequal
The enslaver of the sky king, the purloiner of ashes

This was the end. The end of something. Anything. The end of him. Everything he had built himself upon. The end of the sky king. He was earthbound. There was teeth, compost and earth engulfing his scent as the woman who; he noted took much more effort to distinguish herself as a divine with sizing’s since his accusation, drew forth her maw into his flesh and took what belonged to him. What had guided him like northern stars. The wing lost would lay black before him upon the grown flowers. Irony that something so limp, so useless now. Lost upon the void of flora. He had no time to mourn, to actualise. The events happened so quick he could only feel the ached dullness of a limb that was no longer a part of him. A dreary paralysis that took over his body like morning frost. He’d stretch the cut ligament instinctively.

He had no time to mourn, to actualise. The fire. The Infernus ensnared him like a vicarious self eating hell trap. Smoke heavy on the air and yet all that swam through his thoughts where that of his family. Taken by the waters, drowned into the expanse and he was with fire. Raging fire. It engulfed what was his, turning it to ash as burned feathers hardened his expression to the darkest of fury. The one only a man who had now truly, truly lost everything could provoke. “Sylva you bastard!” His voice was hoarse, as cracked as the visage that crumbled, lost to the flames. The fire ate all upon that wretched grove before becoming him. He raised, the silhouette of a bird amidst the flames; a phoenix. Before falling. Her words resounded within his head as he’d fall amidst the ash covered floor. Embers and grey, the sky eaten by smoke. He illuminated solely by the glow of those ancient runes. The tongues of the gods that seemed to guide him every still. ‘Should you die it will no longer be the end... Let the fire in your veins guide you. Best of luck in your next fights...’ What did that mean. What had she done to him. Made him unburnt, forced fire in his blood and an unknown promise of resurrection. This was not what he wanted. It was not.

Heavy wings would beat like a marching army as the pale beast would dirty pure feathers as he’d penetrate the ash. Libra. The defender, The protector, the king of the mountains. Beauturn would rather have seen no other. ‘oh king where’s your pride now’ The bird would bellow, its voice fragmenting across the mountains. ‘oh king without wings you are just another man’ Beauturn would raise his head. Stare dizzying upon the holy gulf of the bird pitted against the stars like an angel “No. I have been born again. I shalt prove this to you skyseer, for I am no longer an eagle, but a bird of beginnings. Call me a phoenix for embers furl within thy blood” Beauturn would sprawl, shock dawning, words slurred. “All this death, I have made.” He’d add with a gesture to the scorched grounds. Without any more words the great Roc would take him within a talon and take him skyward from the mountains.

‘then ashen one, we be borne again’

~ Exit Beauturn ~





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